


By Only a Flicker, We Cling to This Life

by Mairyn



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Elezen Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Entirely inspired by Granson's low alcohol tolerance, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Light Angst, Making Love, Making Out, Moving On, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:33:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28103991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mairyn/pseuds/Mairyn
Summary: The morning after an accidental drunken confession, Granson and the Warrior of Light consider what it means to move on from past loves and which scars might remain forever.
Relationships: (past) Haurchefant/WoL, Granson/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	By Only a Flicker, We Cling to This Life

**Author's Note:**

> I have a certain fondness for Granson, what can I say. This is utterly self-indulgent and features my own WoL. Hope the Granson lovers will enjoy nonetheless! <3
> 
> Title stolen from "Bad Blood" by Sleeping at Last.

That Granson of the Mournful Blade was the lightest lightweight Nery had ever met came as nothing short of a surprise. He was a big man, taller than her despite her being an Elezen, broad shouldered and all lean muscle from swinging a greatsword day in and day out; she would’ve expected he could hold his own with the best of them. But a single draught of Giott’s favored ale knocking him on his ass was nothing short of endearing. She’d learned many things about the man during their hunt for Dikaiosyne, not the least of which being that they made spectacular partners in battle. They were able to act as one, hunting foes with deadly precision. Their mutual losses meant they understood each other on a level few others could. Him still finding ways to be cute, beyond all that, was merely a treat by comparison.

Truth be told, Nerienne didn’t care much for drinking, either. She sipped amicably at a mug of ale and enjoyed the companionship of the other virtue hunters for a time, but when the revelry had progressed beyond the noise levels she could personally withstand, she politely excused herself by claiming that someone ought to help Granson to his bed before he blacked out entirely. The others seemed to take that as a reasonable pardon and didn’t question her further.

The bounty hunter sat on a stool looking a bit dizzy nearby, and Nery headed over to help him up, swinging his arm across her shoulders. “Up you go, then.”

“M’fine,” he pleaded, but stumbled a bit in the process of standing. He relented almost immediately, leaning on her for support. “Jus need’t lie down fer a bit.” 

Nery smiled apologetically at the rest of her companions and waved a tiny goodbye. Lue-Reeq returned the wave with a huge grin and Giott toasted her tenth-or-so mug of what might as well have been tank fuel before downing the entire thing in one mighty gulp. Cerigg pinched the bridge of his nose in disbelief. As they shuffled away, the raucous noise of their reunion faded behind them, bit by bit.

Night had fallen over the Crystarium and the air had cooled to a gentle chill. Nery led Granson slowly towards the Pendants, his warmth pleasant next to her if not a bit heavy. His clean, spiced scent would’ve been dizzying if it weren’t for the faint undercurrent of ale on his breath. She paused at the inn keeper’s desk for a moment to ask which room Granson was staying in, then led him to his second floor suite based on the directions she received. When she reached the door, it was her intention to see him in and let him figure the rest out himself (she wanted him safe, but had no intention of overstepping any boundaries), but after his third failed attempt to slot the key into the lock of his room, she went ahead and did it for him with a small, apologetic smile.

“You’ve really no tolerance for drink at all, do you?” she teased, slotting the key into the lock on the first try and pressing through the door. Granson ambled in and seated himself on the bench by the door, putting his head in his hands.

“Never have,” he confessed. “Dun like the stuff.”

Nery stared down at him on the bench and shook her head, amused despite herself. “Do you need any more help? Or will you be alright?”

“M’fine,” he promised, despite looking decidedly not fine. “Thanks though.”

Nery rolled her eyes and made her way over to the table, grabbing the pitcher of water and pouring him a cup. She carried it over to him and handed it over, their fingertips brushing lightly as they made the exchange.

“Drink all of that and a couple more for good measure,” she instructed him, ignoring the sparks of desire tingling at her fingertips. He did as he was told, taking a careful drink. “It’ll help avoid the hangover.”

As Granson lowered the cup, his gaze met her own and the expression on his face made her stomach go aflutter. He looked as though he was staring at something precious, if only for a moment. She had to be imagining it. He shook his head and his vision seemed to clear. A memory, perhaps. He downed the rest of the water and, satisfied, Nery headed for the door, prepared to return to her own room for the night.

The sound of his voice caught her off guard. “Y’know--”

She looked back over her shoulder at him, still rosy-cheeked on the bench as he began unstrapping his greaves. “Yes?”

He was silent for a long moment, but then admitted, quietly: “You’d be my first choice. If Milinda -- if I ever moved on. It would be you.”

Nery’s eyes flashed wide and she felt her face go red. A drunken confession he likely wouldn’t remember come morning wasn’t quite what she’d been hoping for in her heart of hearts, but the notion set her pulse racing nonetheless. All the same, she knew it wasn’t a conversation to have while he wasn’t in his right mind. She pressed the door open and smiled back at him, suppressing the anxious energy stirring her stomach into fits of butterflies.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she replied quietly. Granson stared back, a dozen more words lingering unspoken at the edge of his tongue. For all that she wanted to stay and hear them, she knew it was best she didn’t. He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off gently. “Goodnight, Granson.”

He nodded. “Night.”

* * *

It wasn’t as though she hadn’t considered what moving on might feel like. It’d been two years since Haurchefant died protecting her. She’d done her mourning and then some: would always do so, she assumed, in fits and starts. The man who’d felt like the only piece of home remaining in Ishgard wasn’t so easily forgotten in the wake of his death. But the practical piece of her, the piece that’d driven her from home and towards survival to begin with, knew she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life alone. And Granson was as tantalizing a prospect as she’d yet encountered. He understood as well as she did the pain of losing a piece of himself. The difficulty of the recovery. The struggle to return to some sense of normalcy. The wry sense of humor and tall, dark, and handsome countenance were mere bonuses. All the same, she couldn’t be certain. She wasn’t sure she ever could be.

And so it was she spent a long, miserable night lying awake and fighting with herself over a drunken confession. She was being foolish and she knew it. Faulting him for a slip of the tongue when he hadn’t even intended to get drunk in the first place felt unreasonable to her, especially when the confession had been so minor. By the next morning she’d practically resolved to pretend the conversation had never even happened when a knock at her door startled her out of her reverie.

It was a small Au Ra -- or, well, Drahn -- boy. He smiled broadly. “Morning, Mistress Dzemael! Message for you!”

“Oh?” She hadn’t been expecting anything. The boy sorted through the stack of letters he held in one scaled hand and passed her a small letter in a plain envelope. “Thank you!”

“Of course, Miss!” he bowed. “Have a wonderful day!”

He was gone before she could read her own name scrawled on the front of the envelope in familiar handwriting. She stepped back into her room and took a seat at the dining table, unfolding the piece of parchment inside.

> _Nerienne -_  
>  _I want to apologize for last night. Breakfast is on me at the Wandering Stairs if you’ll have me._  
>  _-Granson_

Nery frowned at the letter. She hoped he didn’t feel too guilty, though the use of her full name certainly belied the seriousness of his tone. It wasn’t as though he’d done anything unforgivable. Who, after all, hadn’t had one too many drinks and been a bit too loose with their words? All the same, she hurried to get dressed, taking a minute to glance in the mirror and ensure she looked presentable before heading out. From the steps of the Pendants she could see him sitting alone at a table, looking a bit downtrodden. He was dressed in plain clothes rather than his armor and was holding a mug of what she could only assume was coffee. She approached a bit awkwardly, trying to not appear overly-eager as she headed his way.

When at last she reached his table, he looked up at her with near misery in his eyes and she immediately moved to reassure him, resulting in an overlapping jumble of words from them both at the same time.

“Nery, I’m sor--”

“There's really nothing--”

They both stopped, flushed red by the awkwardness of the moment and waiting for the other to speak. When Granson said nothing for a moment, Nery tried again.

“It’s completely f--”

“I never intended to--”

Nery buried her face in her hands and sank to sit at the table, embarrassed beyond words. She didn’t dare look up at Granson, but she could feel him sulking as well. After a moment of silence, she tried one last time, holding his gaze to ensure all her words made it out.

“You were drunk,” she reassured him, tone certain and firm. His expression remained tense. “Please don’t worry about it. Consider it forgotten.”

Granson parted his lips, as if wanting to argue, but relented. “Right.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I-- Even so, I’m sorry. Thank you for your help.”

The seriousness in his expression melted any lingering concerns she might’ve had. She relaxed her shoulders and settled into her seat.

“Apology accepted,” she said honestly. Granson’s lips quirked upwards, just a bit, in a not-quite-smile. “In any case, your situation got me away from the revelry a little early. Helped me avoid the hangover. So thank you.”

Granson seemed to settle as well, and took a sip of his coffee. He shook his head. “My embarrassing inability to hold my alcohol isn’t a secret anymore. Promise you won’t hold it against me, sinner.”

Nery smiled and resisted the urge to flirt in return. “Only if you hold up your end of the bargain and buy us breakfast. I’m starving.”

“Of course.”

After flagging down a waiter and ordering their meals, the two of them turned to less dire topics for a time, catching up on the happenings since their last midnight meeting. Granson had turned to helping with reconstruction efforts in Kholusia. Nery softened the bit about how she’d saved the world, again, and then spent a healthy dose of time with reconstruction efforts of her own. The Firmament was coming along well. Haurchefant would be proud, she hoped.

By the time they were both halfway through their eggs and bacon, Granson pushed a bit of his food around on his plate and his brow suddenly knit. “Not to venture too close to the topic we’re avoiding, but have you managed?” When Nery cocked her head, he added, “To let yourself move on, I mean.”

Her mouth drew into a firm line and suddenly she was right back in the spiral she’d only just escaped. “I’ve thought about it,” she said. She took a bite of her eggs and considered. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life alone. But no,” she admitted, “I haven’t yet. It’s a strange thing. Hard to know when it’s okay or--” She huffed a curt laugh, frustrated with herself. “Or if it even needs to be okay.”

Granson took a sip of his coffee and nodded, wrapping his large hands around the half-empty mug. “Milinda wouldn’t want me to be alone. All the same--”

“Someday,” Nery said for the both of them.

“Aye,” Granson agreed.

The two of them finished their breakfasts, returning to talking more generally about Ishgard. When their plates were empty and they were ready to go, Granson extended a hand to help Nery from her seat. She smiled coyly but took it, rising to her feet. The warmth of his skin against hers set that anxious energy alight within her again. She gently withdrew her hand.

“I’ll walk you back to your room?” he offered.

“Alright,” she said.

They walked in companionable silence towards the Pendants, but an unspoken awkwardness hung between them. Despite their promise not to speak of it, Nery wanted nothing more than to reach out and take his hand in her own. She wanted to kiss him, maybe, or perhaps just touch his face and relish in the intimacy of being so close to another person. Her fingers twitched at her side. Granson, for his part, seemed still. She was being a fool again, it seemed.

A fool to the very last.

They headed down the hallway leading to her first floor suite and paused at the door, lingering outside a moment. “This is my room,” she said, knowing full well he’d already been there a time or two. “Thank you for the food.”

After a moment she raised her eyes to meet Granson’s, and in them she saw a question: a hesitancy and uncertainty she knew she couldn’t answer with words. She reached between them and brushed her fingertips across his, letting their hands lock gently together, and she simply breathed for a moment, waiting for him to make up his mind.

No matter what, everything would be okay, she reminded herself.

Granson moved suddenly, backing Nery into the inn room door until she was trapped beneath him. His tall frame hovered over her, his hair obscuring the intent in his eyes, and he pressed their foreheads together for a long, heady moment, considering even now. Perhaps he wasn’t ready to move on. And if he wasn’t, she would without pause allow him to leave the moment be. But oh, how she hoped he might give in to temptation. His lips hovered mere ilms from hers, his breath hot against her face, and her body trembled with the restraint to not simply pull him forward and kiss him for all he was worth.

Then, as suddenly as he’d driven forward, his lips were upon hers, his hands were on her hips, and he kissed her with a desire too long suppressed. Nery melted into the inn room door and allowed his larger frame to encompass her, wrapping her arms firmly around his back as their lips met and parted time and again, eager and lost. It’d been far too long since she’d last been so close to a man, so entirely consumed by one. Granson’s lips trailed from her own to the tender flesh of her neck, kissing at the stretch of skin beneath her jaw, and Nery heaved an audible sigh as her fingers dug into the back of his tunic and a chill ran up her spine.

Warmth. Too long absent since that fateful day in the Vault, when loss wrapped her heart in ice and she gave herself wholly to any and every cause which required her: ending the Dragonsong War, liberating Doma and Ala Mhigo, restoring an entire realm. No moment to think, no moment to grieve. She would honor him by doing good in the world. Such was her payment for all that he gave her. But that time had passed, now. The threat of the Empire yet loomed, but for the first time in ages, she felt as though she had room to breathe.

No guilt claimed her as she surrendered herself to Granson’s touch. Haurchefant wouldn’t want her to be alone. He would want her to be happy. She knew him well enough for that. Perhaps similar thoughts were driving Granson’s actions as well: comfort sought at last after too long spent alone.

“Open the door,” Granson murmured against her throat. “Too much of what I want to do ought to be done in private.” Another kiss pressed to her collarbone and she blindly fumbled for the doorknob, pressing into her room with a trembling breath.

They separated for a moment as they stepped inside. Nery’s eyes met Granson’s and he smiled at her, seemingly at ease with his decision. She was glad to see it. Glad to see him allowing himself to move into the future. All the same, he paused and rubbed the back of his neck.

“It’s been some time since,” he cleared his throat, pausing, considering, then trying again. “I hope you’ll be patient.”

Nery stepped forward, standing in front of him, and rested her hands gently against his back. “You’ll be my first as well,” she reminded him. “I’ve nothing but patience for you provided you extend the same.”

Granson grabbed one of her hands, bringing it to his lips with a smirk. He kissed her knuckles tenderly. So tenderly she felt a bit dizzy. “As though you have to ask.”

She smiled back with impossible fondness and cupped the back of his neck, pulling him down to claim his lips once again. His large hands fell upon her waist, gripping her hips firmly as he inexpertly returned the gesture, lips moving and parting with an endearing uncertainty. Gone was the desire with which he’d claimed her at the door. Now that they were alone--open and honest--he’d grown gentler.

After a few moments of soft, teasing kisses, Granson pulled her closer and parted his lips, running his tongue along the swell of her lower lip and allowing his fingers to drift a bit lower, brushing across the curve of her backside. She opened her mouth to his exploration, carefully meeting his tongue with her own, and smiled as he returned steadily to that boldness with which he’d first approached her. He gave her ass a brief squeeze and she laughed into their kiss.

“Eager, are you?” she asked as his lips drifted back to her neck and his curious hands wandered beneath the draped fabric of her tunic.

“More than you yet know,” Granson admitted. His fingertips teased the ticklish skin of the backs of her upper thighs and before she realized it he was lifting her from the floor, encouraging her to wrap her long legs around his waist as he steered them towards the nearest wall. When her back collided with the stucco just beside the inn room door she gasped, and became remarkably aware of the way her tunic had ridden up around her thighs, leaving her bare legs almost entirely defenseless to his ticklish touch.

Granson’s hands wandered her thighs as he kissed her, dipping from inner to outer and outer to inner, the corners of his lips curving when she laughed at the sensation. It felt good to make him smile. She kissed the scar between his eyes and the tip of his nose, then the crease at either corner of his mouth. He was a handsome man. Of all things, there was no denying that.

They kissed again. And again. And once again. Until at last his arms grew tired and he gingerly allowed her to once again find her balance on the floor. He stepped back, but then surged forward for one last kiss. The motion was dizzying. Nery hadn’t expected him to be such a teasing lover, but his dry humor might’ve clued her in had she paid more attention.

Growing a bit too eager to hold back, Nery squirmed out of his trap and grabbed his hand, leading him towards her bed. She grabbed his shoulders and backed him towards the edge of the mattress. He allowed her to guide him, sitting heavy on the edge of her bed, and watched her with eyes clouded by desire. Nery stood over him, smiling coyly, and began to undress.

Her many chains and necklaces were the first thing to go, pulled carefully over her head and settled on the bedside table, leaving her in nothing but the black and blue wrap of the tunic she’d been wearing for the extent of her stay in Norvrandt. She untied the laces holding the wrap in place at the shoulder, and allowed the majority of the cloth to drop to the floor. Her boots were next, carefully removed and set aside, leaving her barefoot, and she shimmied out of her shorts as well. Left in nothing but her smallclothes, she stepped forward and allowed Granson to wrap his arms around her back, tracing his fingertips over her now mostly-bare flesh, and she savored the contact. It’d been far too long since she’d been touched with such reverent hands. Oh, how she’d longed for it in the dead of night. But she hadn’t allowed herself. Not until her duties were done.

Granson stared up at her, transfixed. His hands traced over her breasts, along the dip of her waist, over the curves of her hips, and down the sides of her legs. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the flat expanse of her stomach, then pulled her down into the space between his thighs so that they were on more even ground.

As they kissed again, Granson’s fingertips dipped into the waist of her smallclothes, brushing across the top of her ass. Clearly he had a favored part, she realized. Nery smiled against his lips, melding against him and beginning to unthread the knot lacing the front of his shirt closed. Once she’d managed to untie it entirely, she worked his shirt up over his head and ran her hands up the naked expanse of his chest, fingertips catching against every bit of marred flesh. His chest was littered with scrapes and scars, some pale white lines, others thick dark mounds of scar tissue. It was hard to believe he’d sustained so many injuries in only a year, and yet… She supposed throwing himself at sin eaters, without mercy, again and again in the hopes of being able to find some semblance of peace… Of course he’d sustain this many injuries. This many and more.

Nery leaned down and pressed a kiss to a particularly thick, dark scar running just above his left nipple. Granson stroked her hair gently.

“You’ve got a share of scars yourself,” he observed.

Nery looked down between them, eyes tracing over the marks marring her own flesh. Fighting primals didn’t come without its own share of injuries. She suddenly felt embarrassed, as though she shouldn’t have undressed so quickly. Granson tilted her chin up and pressed a tender kiss to her lips. Reassurance.

“You’re beautiful,” he said when he pulled away.

Carefully, he cradled her back and laid her down on the bed beneath him, then stood up for a moment to wriggle out of his pants and boots. Nery’s eyes drifted to an extremely large scar on his left thigh, jutting out from beneath the edge of his smallclothes. Granson caught her looking and shrugged.

“Sin eater,” he said. “Nearly took my leg off. I learned to be a lot less reckless after that.”

Feeling as though she needed to return the favor, Nery pointed to four raised scars in a neat row on the side of her stomach. “A bear twice your size caught me off guard in the forest when I was a fresh adventurer. Would have died if Ferric hadn’t been there with me and healed me up right away.”

Granson knelt down on the bed beside her and kissed the scars, his fringe ticklish against the sensitive skin of her stomach. She threaded her fingers into his hair and stroked his scalp gently, gasping when he began to kiss his way down the side of her leg. When he reached her knee he ducked under and settled himself between her thighs, kissing his way up the inside of her leg before stroking his thumb very gingerly along the crotch of her panties.

Nery bit down on her lip and suppressed a laugh: not at Granson, but at the near blinding need with which she was shivering as he touched her. She hadn’t realized just how badly she’d wanted this. Granson smirked at her and she scowled playfully in return.

He tugged at the waistband of her underwear. “Can I?”

“Gods, yes,” she replied, lifting her hips from the bed so that he could easily slip her underwear off. Once she was fully naked, he leaned down and pressed his lips to the inside of her thigh once more, smirking against her flesh in self-satisfaction. He worked his way inward slowly.

It took a moment before he gave her a tentative lick, and her thighs tensed at the sensation. Nery resisted the urge to grip his hair and instead held onto the bed sheets as he laved at her clit with the flat of his tongue, slowly working towards a rhythm which set her heart apace. She moaned softly, wriggling her hips just a bit. His tongue ran up the length of her slit, pausing to kiss and suck at her clit before repeating the action, and before long she found herself unconsciously grinding her hips against his mouth, biting her lip to suppress the sounds building in her throat in response to his attention.

He let her do as she pleased for a time, then pressed her hips down into the bed to still her.

A moment later his tongue dipped inside. He gingerly traced her entrance, and she groaned loudly, covering her own mouth to muffle her grunts and groans. She’d be embarrassed if it didn’t feel so bloody incredible. She felt Granson laugh between her thighs, repeating the action a few more times until he was properly fucking her with his tongue. She was lost. Nery gripped her own breasts, toying with her nipples and resisting the urge to thrust her hips to meet him.

He would carry her over the edge if she let him. Gladly. And she nearly did. But she wanted -- desperately, she wanted -- to give him the same. Eventually she sat up, soaked by his ministrations, and dragged him in for a long and messy kiss, relishing in the taste of herself on his tongue, eager to give him the same dizzying wash of desire he’d awakened in her.

She pressed her fingertips against his stomach, then gingerly slid her fingertips lower, stroking the generous bulge of his cock between them.

Her eyes met his and she found herself lost in the heat of his gaze.“Can I return the favor?”

“I’d rather have you,” he admitted, “If you’re willing.”

She kissed him again, biting down on his lower lip and giving his still-clothed cock a cursory, admiring squeeze. He gasped against her lips. She smiled. “Of course.”

Granson stripped out of his smallclothes, his erection standing between them unimpeded. Nery reached out and touched it, stroking him a few times, feeling his length twitch beneath her fingertips. Eventually he hissed and batted her hand away gently, leaning in to kiss her neck instead. Lying on top of her, nothing but flesh against flesh, she wondered again if he had any regrets. She’d managed to keep Haurchefant from her mind thus-far, but the feel of Granson’s body against hers brought him back to her now, his tender touch and clever fingers difficult to forget. He would want her to be happy, she reminded herself. And if Milinda returned to Granson’s mind, she couldn’t blame him for the fact. They would recover together, bit by bit.

When he’d regained control of himself, Granson pulled back and looked her in the eyes, certainty written on his face. “Ready?”

Nery reached up and stroked his cheek, feeling the barest hint of stubble beneath her fingertips. He leaned into her touch and she nodded. Granson settled himself between her legs, the head of his cock teasing at her entrance, and then slowly, bit by bit, he pressed inside her without resistance. Nery’s head fell back against the pillow and she splayed her thighs wider to accommodate him, gently resting her hands against his back as he held himself above her. He stilled a moment, as if in thought, and then began to move.

Together they worked towards an uncertain and unpracticed rhythm, the friction between them building as he continued to work his way in and out of her. As his pace quickened, so too did her breathing, and she moved her hips to meet each thrust, moaning freely as the pleasure began to rapidly build. Unable to contain herself, she reached one hand down between them and rubbed circles around her own clit, gently rolling her fingertips through the slick heat she found there, gripping one of Granson’s firm biceps in her other hand and sighing desperately. The push and drag of his cock in combination with the electric sensation of her own fingers drove her quickly to the edge, and she cried out as she came, hard, wrapping her legs around Granson’s waist and pushing him as deep as he could go.

“Granson,” she moaned, collapsing against him. “Keep going, please.”

Despite the dizzying pleasure that’d already claimed her, Granson sped up his thrusts, balancing himself on his knees for greater leverage and lifting her hips off the bed. He all but drilled into her, rapid and focused, and she, already spent, collapsed beneath him, surrendering her body to him to use how he pleased. It wasn’t long before he, too, reached the edge, growling his release, burying himself in her to the hilt and spending himself entirely. He braced himself against the wall with one hand for a moment, simply breathing, and when at last he’d come down from his high, Granson slipped out of her and laid down beside her, pulling her close to his chest and cradling her against him.

Nery closed her eyes for a moment and rested against his chest, relishing in the scent of sex and sweat. Messy, glorious intimacy, just as delightfully exhausting as she remembered. She only hoped Granson felt the same. Unable to speak for the moment, she instead busied herself tracing the scars on his stomach, stitching together patterns with the tip of her finger. After a short while, Granson grabbed her hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing her fingers. She smiled up at him and was pleased to see he looked happy, too.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“More than alright,” he replied. And then, more quietly, added, “Thank you.”

Nery felt her heart swell with affection and leaned up to kiss him once, tenderly. “I’m glad.”

“Are you alright?” he asked after another brief silence.

“I am,” she admitted, and was surprised to find she meant it.

Not ready to forget, and perhaps not yet ready to move on, either. But most assuredly, utterly ready to peer into a future where perhaps it might be possible. 


End file.
